


That Star Wars: Episode VII High School AU!

by beetle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Football Player Finn, Greaser Jessika Pava, M/M, Marijuana, Mentally Ill Ben Solo, Prodigy Rey, Punk Rock Poe, Stoner Poe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5978728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt by Hippyfetus (http://fuckyeah-stormpilot.tumblr.com/post/139061529839/stormpilot-high-school-au) Punk rocker Poe hangs out under the bleachers at the football games. One day the team’s kicker is under there, looking on the verge of a panic attack. Poe starts talking to him. His parents put him in a jersey the second he could walk, he cant disappoint them. Poe tells him to stop pleasing others and do what he wants. They talk well into the night and as it gets cold Poe puts his denim jacket covered in patches around Finn’s shoulders. When they part Poe forgets his jacket so they meet for lunch to return it, but it takes two months of dating for it to actually be returned. The night Poe has it he stitches a second name patch right below his. When Finn sees the new patch he beams and pulls Poe close. Its now officially Poe and Finns jacket, Poe and Finns everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After School Activities

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Warnings: Vague spoilers for Episode VII. Drug use. Underage canoodling. Poe's favorite song is Rat's Eyes (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk) by Black Flag.

[I wear rat's shoes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ I pay rat's dues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ I make rat's moves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ I sing rat's blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
  
[ I see the world through](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Burning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Sullen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Dirty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)  
[ Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

[Rat's eyes. . . .](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fVmJjbmJbk)

 

Poe Xavier Dameron ducked under the bleachers, shredding on his air guitar as he scoped around for his usual spot, neither too close nor too far from the low seats. A spot where he could get stoned without getting caught and still observe the jocks on the football team as they bashed and concussed their way to even fewer brain cells than they already possessed.

 

When he found his customary spot, he dropped his dusty, black backpack and parked himself next to it. Running his hand through shoulder-length, curly, dyed-black hair—that could’ve been cleaner and a little less tangled—he kept singing along with his favorite song, by his favorite band.

 

By the time _Rat’s Eyes_ was over, Poe had already fished the Ziplock bag with his last three joints—at least till he could meet up with his dealer Sunday—removed one and lodged it in the corner of his mouth while he stashed the baggy in his AP Calc textbook. Then he was patting himself down for his Zippo. When he found it, he proceeded to blaze through _Obliteration_ and _The Bars_ till the world was nice and shiny, revolving gently, and behind and underneath the back beat of _My Ghetto_ , he could hear some truly righteous (but admittedly imaginary) Reggae. It sounded like a mix of Marley and somebody newer and Pop-ier . . . Shaggy?

 

“Eh, who knows?” Poe mumbled to himself, frowning a little. Reggae was more his parents’ taste, though his father didn’t listen much anymore. Not since Poe’s mother died ten years ago. . . .

 

Poe felt in the left breast pocket of his black denim jacket for the iPod and cranked the volume decidedly _up_. When he looked up and through the seats, he saw that the football team had made their way out onto the field at last. Big, bruiser jocks, every last one of them, good for little else besides football and Poe’s masturbation fantasies.

 

The team didn’t automatically form up into their lines or whatever, though. Now, they seemed to be milling around as if waiting for something. Or someone.

 

 _Well, it ain’t Coach Phasma, She’s already out there ordering the Brainless Brigade around. It’s not the captain, either._ Poe snorted, and nearly choked on the smoke he’d been holding in for a little too long. Takodana Red was _strong_ stuff. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wind up snoring under the bleachers till morning _. I’d recognize that bully Trey Orr anywhere with that stupid crew-cut mullet. So what’s the hold-up?_

 

Craning his neck to see the field and the players on it a little better, Poe barely noticed when his earbuds came out, falling into his lap. He was too busy counting the players and, once realizing the team was one man short, trying to figure out who was absent.

 

He’d just finished his tallying with 03 and 81—otherwise known as Stan “Slip” White and Tom Giacchino—when he realized who was missing. The cutest guy on the team and Poe’s favorite varsity fantasy—hell, most of the _school’s_ favorite varsity fantasy . . . number 87, otherwise known as Finn Solo.

 

“Huh.” Poe got to his knees, music forgotten as he recounted and confirmed that yes, the dreamboat was indeed missing.

 

 _What the hell? Finn’s never late for practice_ , he thought, almost worriedly. _Maybe he’s sick . . . though he seemed fine in English and Study Hall . . . really,_ really _fine. . ._.

 

Poe smiled, remembering the way Finn Solo had looked in Study Hall, sitting in his usual desk at the front of the Hall, by the window, in a ray of sunlight, head bent studiously over his history textbook, his very posture one of concentration even as, right next him, Trey Orr, Slip White, and Tom Giacchino flipped through _Hot Rod Magazine, Sandman Vol. 1_ , and _Jugs_ , respectively, and compared notes with each other.

 

And Poe, who’d snuck in a copy of _Popular Mechanics_ in his French textbook, had simply rolled his eyes and gone back to his own magazine. Though he didn’t get very far, for sneaking glances at Finn, his oft-bitten lower lip held between his teeth as he imagined replacing the stupid varsity jacket with his own denim jacket, which was covered in patches, pins, and buttons that ranged from _Frodo Lives_ to _Feel the Bern!_ to one pin that was simply two overlapping male symbols made of stainless steel.

 

He’d been imagining slipping his jacket over those broad shoulders while looking into Finn’s dark eyes. And Finn would smile because he was happy. Happy that he was wearing something that’d proclaim to the whole world that he was Poe’s. . . .

 

Lost in this fantasy for the second time that day, Poe didn’t even hear the footsteps behind him, or the creak of football padding.

 

“Oh—uh . . . hey! Um . . . it’s Poe, right?”

 

Startled, Poe nearly dropped his half-smoked joint and Zippo, as he jumped to his feet and spun around. Standing not ten feet away—somehow, managing to be in a lone ray of the westering sunlight, even under the damn bleachers—was none other than Finn Solo, in his uniformed glory, minus his helmet.

 

Poe blinked, certain the other boy was a hallucination brought on by the Takodana Red. But then, he dismissed that idea. If there was one thing Maz never did, it was lace the dank. She had a rep as the most trusted dealer in town to maintain, after all. The Red was as straight as pot could be.

 

And Poe hadn’t tripped balls since sophomore year, and that one time had been more than enough to show him LSD wasn’t for him.

 

So that left only the possibility that Finn was really standing there, watching him, clearly waiting for a response of some kind.

 

“Uh.” Poe wracked his baked brain for something relevant to say. “Hi.”

 

Finn’s brows drew together. “Yeeeah. Hi.”

 

“I’m Poe,” was the next intelligent thing to come rolling out of Poe’s mouth. He kicked himself as Finn rolled his eyes.

 

“And I’m—”

 

“Finn Solo—kicker for the West Coruscant Finalizers,” Poe blurted out before Finn could finish. The other boy blinked, looking surprised, for some reason. Poe shrugged, blushing. “Everyone knows who Finn Solo is.”

 

Finn snorted. “They _think_ they do, anyway. Hey—is that a _joint_?” he asked, pointing at Poe’s right hand, which was instinctively on its way to his mouth for another puff. For a moment he felt panicked—what if Finn narc’ed on him? It’d be loser-loner Poe’s word against upstanding football hero Finn’s . . . Principal Hux’d probably have him expelled or something for getting high on West Coruscant’s grounds—then the panic passed and he shrugged, taking the delayed puff and watching Finn watch him with only slightly-scandalized, wide eyes.

 

“Yep,” Poe said, grinning, offering the joint for politeness’ sake, more than anything. He certainly didn’t expect Finn to glance around as if making sure they were alone, then closing the distance between them, taking the joint, putting it to his lips, and taking a tentative puff, breathing in some air, as he did so, like an old hand. His eyes widened further as the smoke hit his lungs and his broad chest expanded. For a moment, Poe thought Finn was about to have an epic coughing fit—one that would no doubt draw the attention of the entire team and Coach Phasma.

 

But Finn’s wide eyes narrowed till they were almost shut and his chest expanded further. Wisps of smoke drifted from his nose, like a slumbering dragon, and he held the spliff out to Poe who, dazed, confused, and grudgingly impressed, took it back.

 

“I, uh, take it you’ve done this before,” he noted and Finn, eyes still shut, nodded slowly, holding in the smoke like a real champ, his lips pursed slightly as if he expected a kiss. Poe very nearly obliged him—found himself stepping closer, into Finn’s personal space. Just as Finn slowly began to let the fragrant smoke out. His eyes fluttered open—then got even wider than they had before—as Finn stumbled backwards and fell on his ass. Smoke exploded out of his mouth in one big cough.

 

“Oh—shit, sorry, I—” Poe began, leaning down and offering Finn a hand.

 

“Jeez, you startled me! I didn’t expect you to be so close,” Finn said at the same time, laughing nervously. But when he noticed Poe’s offered hand, he took it and let the other boy help him to his feet. For a few moments they were very close, staring into each other’s eyes. Poe had never realized he and the great Finn Solo were the same middling height. “Thanks, uh, Poe.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Poe said, smiling as Finn put a little space between them. He sparked up and took another drag off the joint, which was mostly gone, by now, and again offered the rest of it to Finn. Finn bit his lip, clearly unsure that he should . . . then he smiled wryly.

 

“What the hell, why not? Thanks again, Poe.” Finn took the last of the joint and dragged off it delicately.

 

 _Yeah, he’s definitely done this before_ , Poe thought with amusement, watching the varsity kicker hold in the smoke while sipping little draughts of oxygen. Within a minute or so, Finn’s face smoothed out from a contemplative frown to a relaxed smile. When he opened his eyes, he began to sway a little.

 

“Whoa,” he said, holding out his hands as if he was balancing on a tightrope, his wondering eyes straying to Poe. He opened his mouth to speak and a little giggle came out. He also began flailing his right arm out at Poe. “Whoa, what _is_ this shit, bruh?”

 

Poe laughed, reaching out to grab Finn’s flailing right arm and tug him toward where Poe’s backpack was. “That’s, uh, Takodana Red. You’re, uh . . . you’re gonna wanna sit down for a few minutes while your system adjusts.”

 

“Okay,” Finn said, stumbling a little as Poe drew him to a stop and helped him sit down. Finn almost sat on Poe’s backpack, but Poe tugged him a little to the left, with a muttered: “Watch your keister, meister!”

 

Finn giggled as he collapsed in a boneless, tailor-fashion pile—all shoulder pads and tight pants that showed off broad shoulders and muscular thighs—thankfully _next_ to Poe’s bag. When Poe let go of Finn’s arm, Finn still held on to Poe’s arm, and gazed up into his eyes. Finn’s eyes were gentle and a bit confused.

 

“Takodana Red,” he said in what was surely an unconsciously sexy voice, his eyes still holding Poe’s. “That’s a pretty name.”

 

“Especially for some Nth-level shit like this,” Poe agreed, sitting himself, tailor fashion as well, his knees just barely touching Finn’s.

 

Still, the other boy wouldn’t let go Poe’s arm, his hand sliding down past Poe’s wrist to hold his hand. Poe swallowed, and couldn’t stop staring at his paler hand in Finn’s dark one.

 

“Hey, can I ask you something, Poe?” Finn wondered, staring at Poe and seemingly unaware that he was stroking his thumb across Poe’s palm. And _definitely_ unaware that Poe was becoming very distracted by this.

 

“Uh, sure, Finn.”

 

Finn smiled a loopy, curious smile. “Why’re you under the bleachers?”

 

Poe shrugged, blushing. “It’s quiet under here and it’s my favorite spot in the school.” He shrugged again. “Why’re _you_ under the bleachers? Shouldn’t you be out there practicing with the other Finalizers?”

 

Finn’s smile faded and he flopped suddenly onto his back in the grass, taking Poe with him. Poe landed on top of Finn, who barely seemed to notice he had a whole other person on top of him. His eyes were closed and Poe had the almost irresistible urge to kiss that dazed, sweet smile back onto his face. . . .

 

“Can I tell you something, Poe . . . Poe . . . what’s your last name?”

 

“Uh, Dameron. Like Cameron, but with a ‘D’ instead of a ‘C.’” Poe breathed, coming to his senses as he rolled off of Finn’s body and into the grass, before his own body started . . . responding.

 

“Poe Dameron . . . that’s a nice name,” Finn sighed, still holding on to Poe’s hand and turning his face so he could smile at Poe, whose heart did a weird, trip-hammer thing even as his body said: _To hell with waiting for more physical contact!_ and began responding, anyway.

 

“I hate football,” Finn said casually, even laughing a little. Poe blinked, his inappropriate reaction momentarily forgotten in the face of this revelation.

 

“ _You_? _Hate?_   _Football_?” Finn nodded and Poe shook his head, horrified and feeling like his world was spinning off its axis. “But you’re so _good_ at it!”

 

“I know,” Finn said, laughing again, but ruefully, as he removed his shoulder pads with the quick ease of the long-practiced. He dropped the pads on the ground behind his head like they were garbage, leaving him lying in his football jersey, tight pants, and cleats. “That’s the bitch of it. I’ve been in a football jersey since I was old enough to kick a ball. But I’ve never really _liked_ football.”

 

Still wide-eyed, Poe continued to shake his head. “But—you’re the best player the Finalizers have . . . not that I care about the Finalizers, but . . . damn. You’re the reason this team is varsity!”

 

“I know,” Finn groaned again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If it weren’t for that, I’d have quit in junior year!” He snorted. “Phasma would’ve had a coronary. So would my parents.”

 

Poe sighed. “Parents can be the worst . . . but they’re supposed to love you unconditionally.” He could barely get that out. Ever since his mother died, Poe’s father had been AWOL, emotionally, leaving Poe to raise himself. Not that Poe’d done a bad job of it—he’d actually done pretty well, as far as he was concerned—it just reeked of unfairness to have lost _both_ his parents when only _one_ of them had died.

 

“ _Supposed to_ , and yeah.” Finn was the one to sigh, now. “And they’re great, you know? The Solos have loved and taken care of me since I was twelve. They never said I had to _keep_ _playing_ football, but it seemed to make them so happy that I had something constructive to do after school and a ready-made set of friends to do it with. One less child to worry about, you know?” Finn sighed again. “Especially with my brother Ben losing his freaking mind, flunking out of school, and pretty much going certifiably loco.”

 

Poe nodded in commiseration, though he didn’t get it, not really. Being an only child, he’d only had to worry about himself and his folks. There’d been no older siblings to emulate or younger siblings to keep in line.

 

“But it’s not your job to hold your family together or to make them happy,” Poe ventured, telling Finn the same thing he’d told himself once upon a time. He’d known, even at nine, that it wasn’t his job to hold his father together after his mother’s death. Had known it, but hadn’t really believed it in his heart.

 

It’d made the past ten years kind of miserable.

 

“It feels like it is,” Finn said sadly, sitting up again and pitching the last of the joint away into the grass, but only after grinding it into the dirt closer at hand. Poe smiled a little, sitting up, too. Finn was so responsible and careful . . . a trait rarely seen in jocks. “My mom and dad always fight—more than they ever used to before Ben wound up inpatient at Four Winds for trying to—to cut off his own arm.”

 

Poe’s eyebrows shot up as something tickled the edge of his compromised brain. “Wait a minute—I remember hearing something about that three, four years ago—you’re one of _those_ Solos?”

 

Finn nodded. “Mom and dad moved across the county to give me a better chance in a different town—one in which Ben hadn’t already made the Solo name mud.” His face taking on a pained expression, Finn met Poe’s eyes. “It feels like it’s my job to redeem the family name. Hell, it feels like it’s even _my fault_ that . . . Ben went cray and our parents’ marriage is falling apart in slow motion.”

 

“Well, it’s not,” Poe informed Finn, who sniffed, wiping hastily at his eyes. “I mean, you’re just a kid. Not a kid-kid, but still. You’re not even old enough to vote. You shouldn’t have to save your folks’ marriage or keep your brother sane.”

 

“It feels like it’s the least I could do after they took me in.” Finn muttered, looking down at his thigh and a jumping muscle therein.

 

“Took you in?”

 

“Yeah.” Finn glanced at Poe. “When my birth parents died, the Solos took me in as a foster child. Then they adopted me a couple years later.” He inhaled and let it out slowly, as if he was still smoking a joint. “That’s when Ben went off the rails. He wouldn’t see Dr. Tekka anymore, wouldn’t talk to me or our parents or Uncle Luke. The only person he trusted was the Dean of Students, Dr. Snoke . . . till Snoke flunked him out of college. Then . . . Ben tried to . . . cut off his arm. And my parents had him hospitalized.” Hanging his head a little, Finn sighed. “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this . . . I never talk to anybody about this stuff."

 

Poe smiled a commiserative smile. "Maybe you just needed to talk about it before you exploded or something."

 

"Maybe. Or maybe it's just because _you're_ easy to talk to and _I'm_ high as a kite." Finn snorted. "Anyway, since Ben got out, he just spends all his time at home sleeping or watching kung fu movies. And I _know_ that it isn’t my fault, but it just . . . _feels_ like it is. Like somehow, I’m responsible for Ben flipping out and mom and dad always yelling at each other.”

 

“It may _feel_ that way, but I assure you . . . it’s not your fault. Any of it.” Poe looked over at Finn and found the other boy still watching him. “If it _was_ your fault, you’d be able to fix it. My mom always used to tell me: ‘Poe, if you can’t solve the problem, then it’s probably not your fault.’”

 

“Your mom sounds smart.”

 

“She was.”

 

“Was?”

 

Poe shrugged and looked away, lying back down in the grass. Finn joined him a minute later. “Cancer. When I was nine.”

 

Finn fell silent and Poe didn’t know what else to say. He’d had no idea the school’s golden boy was leading anything but a golden life. He squeezed Finn’s hand, which he hadn’t even realized he’d taken again. Finn squeezed back.

 

They lay there in the grass for a few minutes, silent and holding hands, stoned off their asses. At least until the other players began practicing. Finn finally laughed. “You know, I was feeling guilty and anxious about not being out there, but now . . . I don’t. I feel . . . better.”

 

Poe laughed, too. “That Takodana Red’ll cure what ails ya.”

 

“I don’t think it was the Takodana Red,” Finn said, his laughter taking on an edge of wryness. “Well. Not _just_ the Takodana Red.”

 

“There’s also something to be said for not chasing a pigskin, running around getting tackled, and hitting your head all the time.” Poe only half-joked. But Finn nodded seriously in agreement.

 

Another silence fell, comfortable but charged. After a few minutes of listening to the players play and Poe’s iPod still blasting Black Flag from its earbuds, Finn broke that silence between them by sitting up on his elbow and leaning over Poe a little, asking: “So . . . we’ve explored why _I’m_ here hiding under the bleachers. But what about _you_ , Mr. Dameron? Why’re you under the bleachers _for_ _real_ , instead of . . . _anywhere_ else?”

 

“Honestly?” Poe smiled up at Finn, who was smiling back and nodding. “I come here to get stoned, listen to music, and watch a bunch of hot guys grab and tackle each other.”

 

Finn rolled his eyes and shook his head, snickering. “C’mon, Dameron, be honest. I’ve bared _my_ soul. Time to bare yours.”

 

“What—I am!” Poe insisted, laughing a little, too, as he gazed up at Finn. “Don’t believe me?”

 

“Well, I believe you about getting stoned and listening to music, but watching a bunch of meathead jocks pummel each other?” Finn shook his head no. “Sorry. Not buying it.”

 

Poe’s eyebrows shot up. “And why is that?”

 

“Well,” Finn said, blushing deep enough it was visible even on his dark skin. “I mean—someone like _you_ —”

 

“ _Someone like me_?” Poe repeated incredulously, sitting up on his elbows, too, Until Finn’s face was almost close enough to kiss. “Someone like me, _what_?”

 

Finn looked very much like he wanted to backtrack, but instead he forged ahead. “I just mean—I’ve seen you around school and you never hang out with _anyone_ —let alone any of the varsity types. You’re just—by yourself. And seemingly happy to be. I would’ve never figured you’d be into jocks. You just don’t seem like the type.”

 

“And why is that?” Poe demanded. Finn blushed even deeper.

 

“I dunno. I just—had you figured for liking . . . I dunno. Bad boy musicians—I figured you’d have a boyfriend who was, like, twenty-five, pierced and tattooed, and in a punk band.” Finn mumbled more to himself than to Poe. “I figured you wouldn’t be into jocks period.”

 

“Shows what you know.” Poe snorted. “I’ve been watching the practices here for at least two years. It’s better than skin mags and Internet porn.”

 

Finn’s eyes widened. “For real?”

 

Poe nodded. “Yeah. And for the record: I, too, hate football. I’m literally only here for the hot guys in tight pants pummeling and tackling each other.”

 

“Oh.” Finn blushed again and looked down at Poe’s denim jacket. He reached out to brush his finger across the male-male pin. “So . . . any jock in particular, or is it just, like, a smorgasbord of hot, ripped guys and no one guy stands out?”

 

Poe laughed and rolled his eyes. “It’s both, actually. I like the variety, but there’s, uh, one guy in particular that I come here to see. He _definitely_ stands out.”

 

“I see,” Finn said, looking up again, his face inscrutable. “I feel I should warn you that none of the other guys on the team are gay . . . not that I know of.”

 

Poe shrugged. “Yeah, I kinda figured. The gaydar is strong with this one.” He searched Finn’s unreadable eyes and sighed. “And the only Finalizer that’s ever made my gaydar ping is, well . . . _you_. Though I kinda can’t tell if that’s true, or only wishful thinking.”

 

Finn swallowed and looked away again. “Um. Why would you thinking _I_ was gay be _wishful_ thinking?”

 

“Because you being gay is the only thing I’ve wished for since my mom died.” Poe bit his lip. “I mean, I doubt I have much of a chance with you, but I’d probably have _more_ of one if you _were_ gay. Know what I mean?”

 

“Oh,” was Finn’s quiet reply. And: “I see.”

 

“Do you?” Poe asked quietly, sitting up a little more into Finn’s personal space. “Listen, Finn . . . I can’t read minds and I can’t even tell which way is up anymore. All I know is, I wanna kiss you so bad right now. I have since the first time I saw you.”

 

Finn blinked and a tentative smile crept across his face. “Then why haven’t you kissed me, yet?”

 

“Because I didn’t want a football team beat-down if my gaydar was wrong for once.” Poe smiled a little too. “So . . . can I assume that if I kiss you, I not only won’t get a beat-down, but you’ll maybe kiss me back, too?”

 

Finn snorted. “Ain’t no _maybe_ about it, Poe,” he promised, leaning a little closer, too. But Poe was the one who ultimately closed the scant distance between their lips. He was the one who teased Finn’s mouth open. He was the one to explore Finn’s mouth and map out the unfamiliar territory with an eager tongue.

 

Finn tasted citrus-y, like some kind of Gatorade and his kiss was shy and a little clumsy at first . . . as if this was maybe his _first_ _kiss_ , something which blew Poe’s mind. How could a guy who looked like Finn _and_ who was a varsity footballer—and who was, apparently, pretty smart, judging by the grades he got in English, History, and Global 4—make it to the ripe, old age of seventeen without kissing or being kissed?

 

_Maybe . . . maybe he was waiting for the right guy. . . ._

 

That was _another_ thing that blew Poe’s mind: that _he_ could be _someone’s_ right guy, let alone _Finn Solo_ ’s.

 

When the kiss ended they were both panting for air and giggling, and not meeting each other’s gazes.

 

“Um,” Poe said, grinning, and Finn chuckled.

 

“Best first kiss ever!” he confirmed, then laughed, burying his face against Poe’s chest. “Oh, God, I’m such a dork!”

 

Still grinning, Poe laid back in the grass and wrapped his arm around Finn’s broad shoulders. “Nah, I think you might be right. That was one hell of a kiss.”

 

Finn sighed. “This is not how I thought today would end,” he murmured, tucking his head under Poe’s chin and walking two fingers across Poe’s hoodie-clad chest.

 

“Hmm. Is this better, worse, or just a lateral move?” Poe asked, fairly certain he knew the answer.

 

“Definitely better.”

 

“Ditto.”

 

Finn sat up a little and looked into Poe’s eyes, his own wondering and happy. “Would you, um, wanna try it again? The kissing, I mean?”

 

Poe’s response was to pull Finn down half on top of him and kiss any remaining words from his lips.

 

And so the rest of the afternoon and a significant part of the evening passed . . . under the bleachers, in their own happy world of making out, heavy petting, and occasional conversation, which usually lead to more making out and heavy petting.

 

It felt, however, as if only minutes had passed since they’d met. Neither of them were inclined to leave their spot under the bleachers—not even when the football team called it a day with the setting of the sun. But with the advent of evening, Finn began to shiver. And not just because of the dirty things Poe was whispering in his ear between kissing and nipping at the lobe.

 

“You cold?” Poe finally asked, when they’d come up for air for the millionth time. Finn, who was straddling Poe’s thighs and practically dry-humping him, shrugged and smiled. “A little,” he said, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. One that became heated and somewhat less than quick, despite Poe sitting up and shrugging off his denim jacket. He broke the kiss and, without looking away from Finn’s wide eyes, draped the jacket over Finn’s shoulders.

 

“It suits you,” Poe said, smiling, as Finn pulled it around him, then belatedly stuck his arms in it.

 

“You know, you’re supposed to be trying to get clothes _off_ of me, not put more on,” Finn joked and Poe laughed.

 

“I can’t help it. You look so good in—well, everything. But especially my jacket.”

 

“Oh, is that so?” Finn asked playfully, posing as best he could while straddling Poe.

 

“It’s _totally_ so.” Poe reached up and popped the collar of his jacket. “There. Even better. Now, you’re hot _and_ warm.”

 

Finn blushed and wrapped his arms around Poe’s neck, searching Poe’s eyes. “Your compliments are so lame.”

 

“True. But they apparently work.” Poe waggled his eyebrows and Finn chuckled.

 

Still waggling his eyebrows, Poe wrapped his arms around Finn’s waist and pulled the kicker back down on top of him. They kissed, with Poe laughing, even as he jammed his hand down the back of Finn’s tight pants and jockeys to knead and squeeze Finn’s perfect ass. Until Finn was writhing on top of him, hard, heavy, and right . . . hissing like an agitated cobra and moaning like a restless spirit.

 

Pretty hard, himself, Poe rolled them over. Finn’s legs wrapped around his hips. Breaking the kiss to look into Finn’s dazed, dilated eyes, Poe sighed. “I suppose it’s too soon for us to have sex?”

 

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “We haven’t even been on a date, yet, Poe.”

 

“Well,” Poe said, leaning down to nuzzle Finn’s nose with his own. “I figured we could maybe cut to the chase where . . . you know . . . you’re my _boyfriend_ and we’re exclusive and we get to have sexy-times together.”

 

Finn blinked and probably blushed. As dark as it was out—even with the lights surrounding the football field on—Poe couldn’t tell. But then Finn reached up and cupped Poe’s face in his right hand, his thumb brushing Poe’s cheekbone tenderly.

 

“I don’t think I’m ready for sexy-times, just yet. At least not sexier times that this,” Finn added apologetically, his brow furrowing as he arched up against Poe’s body, causing the other boy to groan and swear. “I’m just . . . not ready. If that’s not something you can’t handle—if you don’t _wanna_ wait, or _can’t_ wait for me to be ready—”

 

“Are you kidding? I’d wait forever for you, if I had to!” Poe exclaimed, kissing Finn again, this time briefly, then murmuring on his lips. “I want you. I have since freshman year. If I can wait nearly four years for what we’re doing now, then I can wait a little longer for more. Or maybe even a _lot_ longer. If anyone can do delayed gratification, it’s me.”

 

Finn’s smile almost literally lit up the darkness, and Poe sighed, thinking: _I’ve got it_ real _bad_ , as he kissed Finn’s lips. Then: _I don’t care. I’m so damn happy, I can’t even believe this is really happening_.

 

“Well . . . good. I mean, not _good_ , just . . . thank you. For waiting. I don’t think it’ll be long—certainly not another _four_ _years_.” Finn chuckled a little, still stroking Poe’s face and looking into Poe’s eyes. “Personally, I don’t think I could wait that long for _you_ , either.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” Poe said, leaning in for another kiss when his phone started to ring.

 

 _Margaritaville_ . . . his father’s ringtone. Poe swore, getting to his knees to pat himself down for his phone.

 

“Sorry, it’s my dad,” he said to Finn who smiled again.

 

“Yeah, it’s about that time. When the ‘rents get antsy because we’re not home, yet.”

 

Poe frowned when his phone stopped ringing just as he found it. “It’s weird that he’s even calling at all. Usually he doesn’t notice when I’m not around, let alone late for whatever horrors he’s whipped up for dinner.”

 

Finn sat up, brushing grass out of his hair. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

 

“Believe me, sweetheart, that’s not a bet you wanna take.” Poe sighed and unlocked his phone. “Wow, it’s quarter after eight.”

 

“Really?” Finn all but squeaked. “I’m supposed to call my mom if I’m gonna be home later than _seven_!”

 

“Uh-oh . . . is she gonna be pissed off?”

 

“I dunno . . . I’ve kinda never broken that rule before.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” Finn groaned. “Can I use your phone after you’re done calling your dad? Mine is in my locker and probably dead as a doornail.”

 

“Sure.” Poe sat to one side of Finn’s legs and dialed voicemail to see if his dad left a message.

 

No message.

 

 _No surprise, there_ , Poe thought bitterly, hanging up and passing the phone to Finn, who cast a curious glance his way. Poe shrugged. “No voicemail, so it’s not important.”

 

Frowning again, Finn said: “Okay.” He started dialing.

 

Poe made himself busy making sure the Ziplocked joints were still okay, then stowed his iPod and earbuds in his backpack. This dark, walking home, Poe he had no intention of presenting a worthwhile target for anyone looking to rob or otherwise harm him.

 

“Hey, Poe?”

 

He looked over at Finn, who was smiling wryly at him, finger over the phone’s speakers. “Do you have a ride home?”

 

“Uh—if I miss the bus, I usually walk it. Why?”

 

Finn took his finger off the speakers. “Yeah, mom, I gotta give someone a ride home, but it’s not far—it’s not far, is it, Poe?”

 

“Uh, no?” Poe said blinking. “Number 4, Yavin Ave?”

 

Finn mouthed the address himself, and nodded, putting the phone to his ear again. “Yeah, mom, he’s on Yavin Ave.”

 

Poe shouldered his backpack and listened to the rest of Finn’s half of the conversation with his mother:

 

“Yeah—yes, mom. I won’t let it become a habit. I just lost track of time. What—oh, no, it’s in my locker. I didn’t want it to get destroyed during practice . . . yeah. Yeah. I know. Is dad home tonight? Awesome! Did you guys cook or order—YES!” Finn covered the speakers again, turning his bright-eyed gaze to Poe. “Hey, do you like Pad Thai?”

 

Poe’s eyebrows shot up. “Possibly? That depends on what it is.”

 

Finn laughed. “It’s food. _Really good_ food. My parents ordered a ton of it, so you’re welcome to have dinner at my house if, you know, your dad doesn’t mind. Then I could drive you home.”

 

Blinking, Poe didn’t know whether to say: “okay,” or run away screaming. He’d never met any of the parents of any of the guys—all three of them—he’d dated. Mostly because he’d never dated those guys long enough for parents to come into the equation. And anyway, Poe wasn’t the type most guys wanted to bring home to meet their mothers. Not with the piercings, the black clothing, and the occasionally . . .  risqué nature of the t-shirts, buttons, pins, and patches he wore.

 

But Finn didn’t seem to realize that. In fact, he seemed excited about the possibility of a meeting between his parents and his . . . Poe. “I . . . I dunno, Finn. I kinda—that’s not my thing. . . .”

 

Finn’s smile fell. “Oh—I didn’t mean to—to pressure you or anything, I just thought you might like to come over. Um. Sorry.” Putting the phone back to his ear, Finn looked away, back toward where West Coruscant High sat in the near distance. “Uh, hey, mom, sorry about that. Never mind. So, is, uh, Ben gonna be home. . . ?”

 

As Finn spoke to his mom, Poe couldn’t help but feel like he’d just taken a test and totally bombed it. Technically, they weren’t even dating yet, and Finn wanted Poe to meet his parents? Wasn’t that . . . weird?

 

_Well, technically, we aren’t even dating yet and I wanted to have sex with Finn under the bleachers. Which of those two is more inappropriate to two people who barely know each other?_

 

Sighing, Poe had to admit that the little common sense-voice in his head had a point. Bolstered by that admission, the voice went on: _Really, you’ve got to admit the only reason you don’t want to have dinner with Finn’s family is because you think they’re not going to like you. And if they don’t like you, what’re the odds_ Finn _will keep liking you?_

_At least if you go to dinner, despite your misgivings, you’re showing Finn that he’s_ worth _trying for. If you don’t, this will probably be the first and last time you hang out with Finn Solo, let alone make it to second base with him._

Recalling the disappointment in Finn’s voice and eyes, and the way he’d turned away from Poe to finish his conversation with his mother, Poe had to admit that once more, the voice had a point. Poe’s dream-guy had become a reality for a few hours. But the way things were going, he wouldn’t stay that way for much longer. . . .

“Wait, Finn!” Poe said, reaching out to put a hand on Finn’s broad back. The other boy stiffened, but relaxed a second later, turning to look at Poe warily. Poe tried on a small smile that felt nervous and weird. “If you think it’s a good idea . . . and if my dad doesn’t decide to get parental _now_ , I guess, I could come over for dinner . . . if the offer still stands.”

 

Finn searched Poe’s eyes for a few seconds . . . then smiled his big, darkness-banishing smile. He leaned in to buss Poe’s lips briefly, then he was talking to his mother, again . . . though his shining, sparkling eyes rested on Poe, who blushed, but didn’t look away.

 

“Hey, mom—is it okay if I bring my, um, friend to dinner tonight?”

 

TBC


	2. Meet the Solos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn takes Poe home to meet his family.
> 
> Written for the prompt by Hippyfetus (http://fuckyeah-stormpilot.tumblr.com/post/139061529839/stormpilot-high-school-au).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Warnings: Vague spoilers for Episode VII. Drug use. Underage (Finn is seventeen) canoodling.

“And here we are. Casa del Solo,” Finn said brightly and a bit nervously as his Jeep pulled up to the large house—which boasted a garage in which three cars were already parked and which looked to be the size of Poe’s entire house—then into the driveway.

 

“Wow,” Poe said, gazing out the window at the Solos’ brick colonial and all the other houses along this upwardly mobile culvert. Each house seemed larger than the last. This was likely the most well-to-do neighborhood in town. Poe seriously wondered if his presence alone, however, had brought down property values.

 

And maybe he even murmured something out loud about that, because Finn’s right hand settled on his knee. Poe looked over and found Finn smiling at him.

 

“Don’t worry. Despite the McMansion, my family’s still a bunch of old hippies,” he said reassuringly. “My mom’s dad was Bail Organa— _the Bail Organa_.” Poe’s eyes widened. “And don’t let on that I told you, but my Dad and his best friend, Uncle Chewie, used to smuggle, uh— _stuff_ in and out of the country, back in the day. I’m not supposed to know about that, but Uncle Chewie likes to tell stories about the good ol’ days when he’s had a few beers.”

 

“Whoa.” Poe blinked at the onslaught of information. “Uh . . . what kinda _stuff_ did he smuggle?”

 

Finn snorted and shut off the engine. “Anything they could get their sneaky hands on, to hear Uncle Chewie tell it. He never gets more specific than that, though. I think because he’s afraid mom might find out he’s been telling tales and tear into him.”

 

Poe’s eyebrows shot up and he nervously bit his lip. “So, uh . . . your mom’s kinda _scary_ , huh?”

 

“When she has to be, but most of the time, she’s really kind and sweet.” Finn slid his hand halfway up Poe’s thigh, his smile turning sultry. “Especially to my friends.”

 

Grinning, Poe leaned in closer to Finn and into that teasing touch. “And, um, what about your, uh, _more-than_ friends?”

 

Finn looked down, smiling to himself. “You’d actually be the first more-than friend I’ve brought home to meet them.”

 

His eyebrows furrowing in slight worry, Poe asked: “So . . . they _do_ know you’re gay, right?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Finn laughed, a little awkwardly. “They’ve always known . . . I dunno how. When they gave me The Talk—you know, _The Talk_ —let’s just say it was, uh, specifically tailored to a boy who likes boys. Not a single mention of being careful so I didn’t accidentally get girls pregnant, or anything like that. Just making sure I knew how sex worked and what to expect. And telling me to be safe and don’t let other boys pressure me into doing what they wanted if I wasn’t ready.” Finn crooked an eyebrow at Poe, who blushed and chuckled. “’Politely, but firmly turn them down if you’re not ready for whatever reason, Finn.’ That was Mom. ’If all else fails, kid, knee ‘em in the balls. Twice.’ That part was Dad.”

 

“Ouch!” Poe crossed his legs, still chuckling. Finn’s hand on his leg slid off to settle on the gear box. “Boy, am I glad I didn’t try to pressure _you_ into something you weren’t ready for.”

 

Finn laughed and placed his hand back where it’d been on Poe’s thigh and stroked reassuringly. “I’m glad, too.” He stroked a little higher on Poe’s thigh and Poe hissed and groaned.

 

“Ah, but no fair teasing me like this, either,” he gritted out, doing his very best not to slouch down in the passenger seat so that big, gentle hand was stroking something a lot more appreciative than his leg. “Fuck, that feels ridiculously _good_.”

 

Smiling apologetically, Finn reluctantly removed his hand with one last squeeze and a sigh. “You’re right. No almost-handjobs till I’m ready to give an _actual_ handjob,” he said wistfully, leaning closer to kiss Poe on the cheek. Poe turned his head and caught the kiss on the lips, and soon, they were making out like they were under the bleachers again. At least for a few minutes. Then Finn was sitting back, panting and grinning. “We’d better, um, head inside before my parents come out here to find out what’s keeping us.”

 

Poe, still in a make-out headspace, groaned, sitting back and pulling his hoodie and t-shirt down as low as possible. “Yeah . . . you’re right,” he mumbled, sighing, too. Finn stole another quick kiss.

 

“Besides, you’ve gotta be starving—I am.”

 

“Making out for five hours burns a lot of calories,” Poe said wryly. Then he grabbed his backpack off the floor between his feet and opened the passenger side door. He slowly slid out in deference to his half a hard-on and made his way around the front of the white jeep. Finn was rooting around in the backseat under his football equipment for his backpack. Poe took the opportunity to ogle Finn’s shoulders, back, and ass—and his thighs . . . there basically wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t ogle-worthy . . . muscular and sexy—then realized said ogling wasn’t helping his hard-on go away.

 

Grumbling to himself, he turned away from Finn’s back half and instead, focused on the house. It was well-tended and clean—at least on the outside—and there was a light on in practically every window that faced the street. And in one window on the second floor, was a person looking out. At least until they noticed Poe looking _in_ and backed away from the window.

 

“Huh,” Poe said, frowning. Then starting when Finn took his hand and leaned in to kiss the spot just under Poe’s right ear.

 

“That would be my brother, Ben,” Finn said with more than a little resignation. “He may or may not be joining us for dinner, tonight. He gets . . . weird about guests. He’ll probably just help himself then take his plate to his room, if he hasn’t already eaten.”

 

“Ah.” Poe let Finn lead him up the path from the garage to the front door, letting go of Poe’s hand to dig his keys out of his backpack. “Hey, um . . . I look okay, right?”

 

Finn found his keys, zipped his backpack, and turned his reassuring smile on Poe. “Poe, you look . . . fine as hell.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Poe ran a hand through his messy hair and smoothed his hoodie and jeans—which were all over grass stains—and tried on a smile. “There. Is this better?”

 

Finn laughed. “Poe, you look _great_ —trust me,” he said, leaning closer to straighten the collar of Poe’s hoodie. Poe had to admit to himself he felt weird without his armor, the ubiquitous denim jacket with its buttons, badges, pins, and patches. But it just looked so damn good on Finn. . . .

 

“Oh, hey—do you want your jacket back?” Finn asked, putting his bag down so he could take it off. But Poe stopped him, taking hold of the lapels and pulling Finn closer while looking him over. Even having eschewed the tight football uniform for black jeans and a black t-shirt, Finn _looked_ . . . like sex on legs. The jacket only added to the sexiness.

 

“Nah, not right now,” Poe found himself saying as he met Finn’s surprised dark eyes. “It really suits you.”

 

“Better than my varsity jacket?” Finn asked stepping even closer, till he was almost pressed against Poe.

 

“ _Much_ better than that.” Poe smiled and Finn returned it. Then they leaned toward each other for a kiss that probably wouldn’t have helped the hard-on that’d just started to go away, when the front door opened and they sprang apart, wide-eyed and surprised.

 

“Um, Poe . . . this is my brother, Ben Solo. Ben, this my friend, Poe Dameron,” Finn said after everyone stared at each other for nearly a minute. Ben Solo, in his Coruscant Valley High t-shirt and khakis, from his prodigious height of six-foot-five and from within a curtain of dark, shoulder-length hair, gave Poe the laser eye, glowering down at him until Poe glanced at Finn.

 

 

“Uh,” Poe started, darting a glance back at Ben, who finally huffed and stuck out his hand, presumably for shaking.

 

Poe hesitated, then took the offered hand. It was large, dry, and cool. “Nice to, uh, meet you, Ben.”

 

Ben raised an eyebrow and his gaze went between Poe and Finn. “Likewise,” he finally said without any inflection, letting go of Poe’s hand, but not making a move to invite him in. Finally, Finn heaved a sigh and, taking Poe’s hand, shouldered his way past Ben, muttering: “Jesus, Ben, you could at least _pretend_ to be normal for a _few_ minutes when guests come over.”

 

Ben snorted and shut the door after them, following Finn and Poe down the well-lit front hall. “I could,” he replied sanguinely. “But then when I started acting like myself again, he’d be even more surprised. Probably unpleasantly.”

 

Finn glanced back at Ben over Poe’s head. “So, I guess that means you won’t be joining us for dinner. . . ?”

 

“You guess wrong.” At the look of unhappy surprise on Finn’s face, Ben chuckled, his big hands dropping down on Poe’s shoulders as they passed the living room. “Perpetually perfect Finn finally brings home his first boyfriend. Now what kind of brother would I be if I missed out on _that_?”

 

Poe shrugged Ben’s hands off his shoulders. “Hands off the merchandise, Ben. No offense.”

 

“None taken.” Ben laughed and made his way past Poe and Finn to climb the first few steps of the front staircase. “Finn and his boyfriend are here! I repeat: Finn and his boyfriend are here!” he called upstairs, but still smirked at Finn and Poe. They flinched.

 

“You’re such a dick, Ben,” Finn said, shaking his head. Ben’s smirk only deepened.

 

“Just doing you the favor of announcing your arrival, little brother. You _and_ your boyfriend.”

 

Finn gave Ben the finger and Ben laughed again, turning and taking the stairs three at a time. His bare feet barely made any noise. “Put some shoes on!” Finn called after him. Then he turned to Poe, smiling a big, but worried smile. “So . . . that was my brother, Ben. He’s still a little . . . eccentric, as you can see. An eccentric douchebag.”

 

Poe laughed, squeezing Finn’s hand. He wondered how the Solos would treat him now that he wasn’t just Finn’s _friend_ , but his _boy_ friend. He wondered if it would make any difference at all. Aside from ramping up his own nerves and anxiety.

 

Then he noticed a heavenly scent coming from further down the hall. “Oh, my God, that smells good!”

 

Finn laughed and tugged Poe down the hall. “That would be the Pad Thai. I told you you’d love it.”

 

At the end of the hall—past the dining room, which already had places set and take-out containers on the table—was a large kitchen. Homey, somehow, despite everything being either marble, glass, or chrome. Finn made straight for the fridge.

 

“Are you thirsty, Poe?” he asked, swinging open the stainless steel door. “I am. My mouth is totally dry. Can’t imagine why. . . .” he cast a wry glance in Poe’s direction and Poe found himself smirking and squeezing Finn’s hand.

 

“I can’t figure it out, either,” he said, leaning closer to kiss Finn’s shoulder. Then, when Finn turned to face him, smiling his bright smile and looking positively edible in Poe’s jacket, Finn’s lips. He grinned. “You know we’re letting all the cold out.”

 

Finn leaned in, one hand coming up to cup Poe’s cheek. “Nah, that’s a myth. Refrigerators never run out of cold. You know—unless the thingamajig breaks.”

 

“Ah, yes, the ever-important _thingamajig_. Of course.” Poe rolled his eyes and Finn laughed.

 

“Hey, we can’t all read _Popular Mechanics_ when we should be studying for French midterms.”

 

Poe gaped. “How’d you know?”

 

“I have my ways.” Finn looked so cute when he was smug, that Poe just had to kiss him again. So he did, pulling the other boy closer by the hand and lapel, and brushing their lips together before capturing Finn’s in a teasing, then demanding kiss.

 

And they stood there, making out in front of the open refrigerator. Finn’s arms wound around Poe’s neck and Poe’s arms around Finn’s waist. It wasn’t long before they were once again in melt-down mode.

 

 _Okay, even just making out with Finn is way better than it was with the others. More satisfying and fun and hot_ , Poe thought briefly. Then: _Fuck, what if his parents_ don’t _like me? What then? Finn’d probably drop me like a hot rock. I’ve gotta be careful, be on my game. I won’t get a second chance to make a first impression on his parents. I’ve gotta be circumspect. If I wanna keep Finn, I’ve gotta be respectful and wholesome . . . fuck, how do I do_ that _?_

 

Suddenly a throat was cleared to Poe’s left and he startled his way out of the kiss, looking toward the hallway, as did Finn. Then Finn smiled and said: “Hey, Dad.”

 

A tall, grumpy-looking older guy with messy hair mostly gone white and a scowl that wilted Poe’s erection faster than a cold shower stood in the entryway to the kitchen. Ben Solo was standing behind him, smirking over his head.

 

“You’re lettin’ all the cold out,” the older guy groused, his gaze ping-ponging between Finn and Poe. They separated, but Finn took Poe’s hand and squeezed it, which felt almost as good as a full embrace.

 

“You know, that’s actually a myth—you can’t let all the cold out unless the thingamajig goes bad. Amiright?” Poe said, grinning and laughing. When no one else laughed with him—not even Finn, whose eyes were wide, and he was shaking his head minutely and mouthing _no_ —Poe’s laugh trailed off and he cleared his throat. “Um, I mean, yes, sir.”

 

He reached behind him to close the fridge door, without letting go of Finn’s hand. Finn’s dad snorted and Poe thought he almost saw a smile on the older man’s face as he looked both Finn and Poe over, eyes lingering at their linked hands. Poe resisted the urge to let go and distance himself as far as he could from Finn. PDAs in front of parents were _so_ not circumspect.

 

Poe cleared his throat again as Mr. Solo entered the kitchen proper, followed by a smirking Ben. He came right toward Finn and Poe, his hand held out. For several moments, he stood in front of them, as if waiting for something. Poe was drawing a total blank till Finn elbowed him in the side with a jingle of jacket.

 

“Oh!” Poe smiled again, nervously, and took Mr. Solo’s hand. It was a rough and firm shake, but Poe gave as good as he got.

 

“Dad, this is Poe Dameron. Poe, this is my dad, Han Solo,” Finn said smoothly, smiling approvingly at Poe and squeezing his hand in excitement.

 

“Nice to meet ya, kid.” Mr. Solo rumbled and Poe, still shaking hands with him, replied: “Nice meeting you, too, sir. I’ve heard so much about you.”

 

“Oh, really?” Mr. Solo’s right eyebrow quirked and he glanced at Finn, grinned and shrugged. “I hope at least some of it was good.”

 

“Oh, it was—totally!” Poe responded with probably more enthusiasm than the answer may have warranted. Behind Mr. Solo, Ben rolled his eyes and stepped past his father, making his way to the fridge. Everyone shuffled over to give him room.

 

“Well,” Mr. Solo said gruffly, that almost-smile widening just a bit. “We’re glad to have you here. Any friend of Finn’s—”

 

“ _Boyfriend_!” Ben interrupted from behind Finn, coughing and clearing his throat.

 

“—is a friend of ours,” Mr. Solo finished after shooting a stern _look_ at Ben, who shut the refrigerator door and squeezed past Finn with a can of Sierra Mist and a shrug. Then he padded, still barefoot, out of the kitchen. Finn glowered after him.

 

“Don’t pay him any mind,” Mr. Solo said to Finn, but included Poe in his gaze. “He just likes to rile everyone up. He gets that from his mother’s side of the family.”

 

“I heard that, Han!” a woman’s voice called from the hallway. “You boys come to the dining room so we can eat before this gets any colder!”

 

Mr. Solo rolled his eyes. “You heard the general,” he muttered, finally retrieving his hand from Poe’s and turning back toward the hallway. “You boys help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

 

“Okay, Dad.”

 

“Uh, thanks, Mr. Solo.”

 

“Oh, hey, Dad—want me to bring you a beer?”

 

“I knew I was forgetting _something_ ,” Mr. Solo said with a chuckle as he stepped out into the hallway. “Yeah, a beer’d be nice, Finn.”

 

When Mr. Solo disappeared down the hall, Poe looked over at Finn to discover the other boy was already gazing at him and smiling.

 

“What?” Poe asked, blushing. Finn stepped closer to him, and closer still, till they were pressed together again, his eyes sparkling and happy.

 

“My Dad likes you,” he said quietly, contentedly, with a happy little sigh. “And I think even Ben likes you, or he’d be acting like you weren’t even here.”

 

“Really?” Poe smiled hopefully. “Well, two outta three ain’t bad.”

 

“My Mom’s gonna like you, too. Hell, she’ll _love_ you.” Finn leaned in until his forehead was against Poe’s. “You’re so awesome.”

 

“And here I was, thinking the same about you.”

 

Finn laughed quietly and Poe joined him, biting his lip before leaning even closer for a quick kiss that came with a side of grope.

 

Then Finn was letting go of Poe’s ass to open the fridge. “C’mon, let’s grab some sodas and Dad’s beer before they come to check on us,” Finn said, laughing again. Poe, still inhabiting that kiss and the grope that came with it, shook himself back to reality, and turned to see what beverages the Solo-fridge had to offer.

 

#

 

“So, Poe,” Finn’s mother, a smallish woman with greying brown hair coiled in braids around her head, said as everyone served themselves from the bags and containers on the round table. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but tell us a little about yourself.”

 

Blushing a little, Poe looked down at his half-filled plate—Finn was putting food in both their plates, and thank goodness, because Poe would’ve sat there all evening wondering what he should try—and smiled a little. “Um, there’s not much to tell, really. I was born in Coruscant County and grew up on Yavin Ave in the same house my Mom grew up in. Went to the same schools she went to. And if I can keep my grades up, once I graduate, I’ll probably join the Air Force, like she did.”

 

“Your mother’s a pilot?” Mr. Solo asked, his interest obviously peaked. Poe smiled.

 

“Um, she _was_. She passed away when I was nine. But yeah, she flew in the Air Force till she was thirty-six. Then she decided to settle down and she married my dad, and they had me.” Poe looked over at Finn, whose hand had settled on his own in commiseration and support. He returned the smile and shifted his hand so they were holding hands once more. “It sounds kinda simplistic, but when I grow up, I’m gonna be _just_ like her. I’m gonna fly badass planes and serve my country doing it.”

 

“That’s an admirable set of goals, Poe. I’m certain that you’ll achieve them and make your parents—both of them—very proud,” Mrs. Solo said, smiling her kind smile. So far, despite Finn’s and Mr. Solo’s descriptions of her, she wasn’t scary, at all. She just seemed like . . . a mom. A nice one.

 

It made Poe miss his own mother terribly. . . .

 

For a few minutes, everyone dug into their food, Poe a little hesitantly, because some of it looked weird, but everything Finn had put on his plate tasted delicious, and he was soon practically wolfing it down. Finn and Poe snuck glances and smiles at each other. Those glances and smiles did nothing to quell the hard-on that had kept making a reappearance sporadically through the evening. Neither did Finn’s hand in Poe’s. The other boy kept stroking Poe’s palm with his thumb in a way that should’ve been illegal—and probably was. And it was certainly unwise with them sandwiched between Finn’s parents and sitting across from Ben, who was smirking again.

 

Poe sighed. That smirk didn’t bode well.

 

“So,” Ben said, his eyebrows raised and his eyes darting between Finn and Poe. “How’d you two lovebirds meet? I’m sure we’re _all_ dying to know.”

 

Alarmed, Poe glanced at Finn, who was shooting his brother a narrow-eyed glare.

 

“If you must know,” Finn began slowly, still glaring at Ben, whose smirk had turned into an overly-innocent smile. “Poe and I officially met . . . during practice.”

 

“You’re on the football team, too, Poe?” More of Ben’s fake innocence. But before Poe, who was still blushing, could stammer out an answer, Finn thankfully beat him to the punch.

 

“No, Poe was watching the team play and I was . . . taking a break. We started talking to each other and . . . the rest is history,” Finn said flatly, forbiddingly. Ben, still smiling that too-innocent smile, held his hands up in surrender, then went back to his dinner, obviously holding back laughter.

 

“Hey, Dad, here’s something you and Poe have in common: You both like to read _Popular Mechanics_!” Finn said in the sudden silence, his gaze resting first on his father, then on Poe.

 

Mr. Solo’s interest peaked again, he turned to Poe, who smiled. “Is that true, kid?”

 

“It is. Maybe a little _too_ true. Sometimes I read it during Study Hall and French class,” Poe said, then blushed, wondering why in the hell he’d admitted to _that_ —and to Finn’s father, no less. But apparently it wasn’t a wrong thing to say, because Mr. Solo laughed and Finn’s sneaker-free foot made its way up Poe’s leg, causing the other boy to swallow reflexively.

 

But Mr. Solo was still laughing. “I used to sneak and read it during English and History! It’s what got _me_ interested in flying.”

 

Poe smiled gamely. “Finn mentioned you’re a p-pilot,” he stammered out as Finn’s toes twiddled their way up his leg.

 

“Since I was seventeen.”

 

“Wow.” Poe shook his head admiringly. At nineteen, he had only been on a plane twice . . . a trip to Disneyworld when he was eight and the trip back home.

 

“I still have my first plane, as a matter of fact,” Mr. Solo went on, proudly. “The first plane I bought with my own money: The Millennium Falcon. It’s an interesting story, how I got her. . . .”

 

“Oh, dear, here we go,” Mrs. Solo muttered, rolling her eyes wryly. Mr. Solo paid her no attention and launched into the tale. Poe listened raptly as he shoveled away Pad Thai and played footsie with Finn under the table.

 

#

 

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Solo. It was really good,” Poe said, shaking Mr. Solo’s hand and then Mrs. Solo’s. But she pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.

 

“We were glad to have you, dear,” Mrs. Solo said with a warm smile. “You were lovely company and we hope to see you again soon.”

 

“Ditto,” Poe said, smiling at Finn’s parents until Finn tugged him down the path and toward his Jeep, leaving his parents smiling and waving in the doorway.

 

Once they were buckled in, Finn started the Jeep and, with one last wave for his parents, backed out of the driveway.

 

“So,” Poe said, when Finn had been driving for a couple minutes, smiling to himself. “How’d I do?”

 

Finn glanced at him, still smiling. “Are you _kidding_ me? You did _great_! My parents _loved_ you! Even my rude, crazy brother liked you!” The reached a stoplight and Finn leaned over to kiss Poe, who met him halfway. “You were amazing!”

 

“Only because your parents were _really_ cool.” Poe murmured against Finn’s lips. “And your dad tells the _best_ stories.”

 

“That’s because you haven’t heard them a thousand times, yet,” Finn laughed, and drove on when the light changed. “Though wait ‘til you hear the stories he tells when Mom’s _not_ around. Or when Uncle Chewie _is_.”

 

“I look forward to it,” Poe said softly. “My mom used to have cool stories to tell about the Air Force. And my Dad . . . well, he was in administration, so his stories weren’t as cool.” He snorted. “He’s retired, now, so he doesn’t have to go to work in the morning. But he’s still probably asleep and has been asleep since nine o’clock.”

 

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, you know . . . early to bed, early to rise. . . .”

 

Poe made a rude noise. “My Dad’s healthy, but he ain’t wealthy or wise.”

 

“Still . . . I’d like to meet him, someday. If, you know, you’re out to him,” Finn said tentatively.

 

Poe rolled his eyes and gazed out the passenger side window. “Trust me. There’s not much to meet. But, yeah. If you wanna come over some afternoon and meet my Dad . . . just let me know. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’s . . . pretty reserved and standoffish.”

 

“So were you,” Finn said, a smile in his voice. “At least until I ran into you under the bleachers.”

 

Blushing, Poe fought a smile. “Maybe. But I’m just a student. My Dad is the _master_ at keeping people at arm’s length.”

 

“We’ll see,” was Finn’s reply.

 

Thereafter, it wasn’t a long drive to Yavin Ave—which was nonetheless in a much lower tax bracket than Finn’s house—and soon they’d pulled up outside of Poe’s ranch-style house.

 

Finn’d barely shut off the engine before he was climbing over the gear box to straddle Poe’s legs and kiss the lips off him.

 

Laughing into the kiss, Poe wrapped his arms around Finn’s waist and pulled the other boy closer, one hand on his ass and squeezing, the other at the small of his back and rubbing.

 

When the kiss ended, due to lack of oxygen, they both sat back, breathing hard and smiling at each other. Finn reached up to cup Poe’s face in his hand, brushing his thumb over Poe’s lips tenderly. Poe kissed his thumb before biting it gently and laving it with his tongue. Finn’s eyes widened and he groaned, leaning in to kiss Poe’s cheek, down to his ear, nibbling the lobe with careful teeth. He hitched himself further up Poe’s lap until Poe had tangible proof Finn was just as turned-on as he was.

 

“Oh, God, _Finn_ ,” he breathed around Finn’s thumb, then threw his head back to catch Finn’s lips in another breathless kiss. Finn moaned and pressed himself against Poe even harder and faster, until Poe was fighting his body to keep it from coming. “Finn, baby, I’m not— _fuck_ —a saint. Not made of stone, either. If we keep this up—”

 

“Shhh . . . I know. . . .” Finn whispered on Poe’s lips, snaking a hand between them to unbutton Poe’s jeans . . . then his own. Then he was slipping his hand down into Poe’s jockeys and Poe almost _did_ come when Finn’s rough, cool hand closed around him, stroking him with a surety that seemed to surprise them both.

 

Poe gazed up into Finn’s wide, dark eyes and smiled, working his own hand between their bodies to slip into Finn’s boxers. The tips of his fingers brushed down Finn’s length before Poe took him in hand, his thumb tracing the tip of Finn’s cock.

 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured as Finn’s eyes fluttered shut. Poe stole a kiss that was more of a gasp, at least from Finn’s end of it. “Never felt anything like you.”

 

“Ditto,” Finn gritted out, tucking his face against Poe’s neck as he shook and shuddered. “You’re so _good_ at this. I never— _oh, boy_ . . . oh, _fuck . . ._ Poe, I think _—_ ”

 

“It’s okay, baby, let go, if you wanna. I’ve got you,” Poe breathed, stroking slow and tight, and alternately thumbing the tip of Finn’s cock. “I’ve got you.”

 

Finn suddenly groaned, long and loud, as he came, shooting all over Poe’s hand and his own t-shirt. Poe kept stroking and murmuring encouragement in Finn’s ear the whole time.

 

When Finn was done coming, he shivered once and went limp on Poe, who kissed his temple. The other boy groaned again, but this time it turned into a breathless laugh.

 

“Wow,” Finn mumbled, still laughing a little. “So _that_ was a handjob.”

 

“Not to brag, but . . . yeah.” Poe laughed, too, as Finn’s grasp of him tightened once more and he started moving his hand again. “That _was_ a handjob. A _fun_ one. For _me_ , at least.”

 

And, as if to prove this, Poe managed held up his come-covered hand and began to lick it clean. Finn, watching this, groaned and shivered again. “Uh, wow . . . it was pretty fun for me, too.” Then he was sitting up so he could get better leverage to keep stroking Poe off. His eyes were wide and still a little dazed as he simultaneously stroked and gaped as Poe continued licking his hand clean.

 

“What . . . um . . . what do I taste like?” Finn asked clearly shy, yet also clearly curious. Poe grinned.

 

“Come kiss me and find out.”

 

Poe had barely finished speaking before Finn’s lips covered his own and Finn’s tongue chased his own, mapping Poe’s mouth eagerly, searching out hints of himself.

 

It wasn’t long before Poe was coming, too, silently but no less intensely . . . all over Finn’s hand and his own hoodie. When Poe was done coming, Finn broke their kiss to lick his own hand clean. Poe closed his eyes briefly to the sight, as his spent body tried to come again. Then he was moaning softly as Finn kissed him again, tasting like them both.

 

TBC


	3. A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn and Poe’s first day at school as a couple. Written for the prompt by Hippyfetus (http://fuckyeah-stormpilot.tumblr.com/post/139061529839/stormpilot-high-school-au).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes/Warnings: Vague spoilers for Episode VII. Drug use. Underage (Finn is seventeen) canoodling.

_“Please, Poe . . . harder . . . more.”_

_Poe bucked up under Finn’s weight as the other boy moaned and plead for his cock. Finn’s body was so tight and hot, Poe thought for certain he’d burn up in that heat well before he came. Each thrust was pleasure so great it was almost agony. Each pull-out was nearly pure agony, but for the sweet knowledge that he could have Finn’s heat again any time he wanted._

_He opened eyes that stung from sweat and maybe a few tears, and gazed up at the boy riding his cock like it was a rodeo and he meant to take home the grand prize for style_ and _endurance. Finn’s head was thrown back, his eyes open and glazed. Every muscle in his body stood out in stark relief as he lifted and lowered himself repeatedly, in time with Poe’s thrusts. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth and had been almost from the beginning. Poe moaned and levered himself up as much as he could._

_“Kiss me,” he commanded. Then repeated himself until some of Finn’s sense returned to him and the other boy leaned down to meet the kiss that had been waiting for him. Poe kept himself upright with one hand. The other grabbed Finn’s cock from where it hugged his stomach and stroked it neither slow nor fast, but steadily. Finn groaned into the kiss, clenching his muscles tight around Poe’s cock._

_Poe braced himself and tried to fuck Finn more and harder, like he’d asked. Their bodies slipped and slid against each other in sweat, but Poe couldn’t seem to get enough leverage to go as hard as he’d liked. Finally, growling in frustration, Poe pulled out of Finn completely, ignoring the other boy’s whine at the loss, then rolled them both over, so Finn was laying on his back and Poe was leaning over him, pushing Finn’s muscular legs apart and up._

_Finn stared up at him with wide eyes as Poe arranged him just so: with his right leg over Poe’s shoulder and his left leg pushed out as far as it would go. Then Poe was guiding himself back home with one hard thrust that made them both moan each other’s names._

_With this new leverage, Poe felt as if he could fuck Finn forever, as hard and as much as Finn wanted. And he was, the hand that’d been holding Finn’s left leg out moving to grasp Finn’s cock. Poe stroked and stroked, running his thumb over the head, his finger slipping in the pre-come gathered there. Finn’s moaning was non-stop, now, trying to be words and mostly failing. Finally, Finn arched up off the bed, his body going stiff and clenching tight around Poe as he suddenly came, shooting hard and a lot, all over his stomach and chest. His eyes were still wide open, but unfocused, his head thrown back once more as he cried out hoarsely and helplessly._

_He was_ beautiful _, and Poe stammered out words to that effect as his body hovered on the cusp of coming, too. Finn had clenched so tight around him, pulling out wasn’t much of an option. Poe could only try to drive himself deeper into Finn’s feverish-hot body as that body came down from its orgasm._

_Poe hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes until Finn’s hand cupped his face. Poe opened his eyes and blinked till he could see properly. Finn was smiling up at him, his gaze fond and weary. His thumb stroked across Poe’s mouth, and Poe bit lightly, briefly on the digit before Finn grinned and ran that hand down Poe’s chest._

_“Come for me, Poe,” he breathed, his eyes as dark and fathomless as a lake at night. “I want you to come right now. Inside me.”_

_And as if that’d been all his body was waiting for, it went utterly still for a moment—just long enough for Poe to acknowledge that this climax would probably erase him . . . replace him with white light and a feeling too big to be contained by a mortal body—before his body let go. Before it came with every fiber of its being. Poe cried out from the agony of pleasure so great, he had no previous reference for it and no way to manage it._

_He came and came until it felt as if there was nothing left of him_ to _come. He’d shot heart and soul, and maybe even a little grey matter. He’d given Finn everything, so that surely only a husk of Poe was left. Everything else had been given to Finn. Finn . . . on top of whom the husk of Poe collapsed with a bereft groan._

_“Love you,” he panted against the damp skin of Finn’s shoulder, on which he laid. Finn chuckled—though it briefly turned into a gasp when Poe slipped out of him—running one hand up and down Poe’s back, and the other through sweat-damp curls._

_“I love you, too, Poe . . . Poe? Poe—it’s time to wake up.”_

_“Whuh?” Poe lifted his thousand-pound head from off Finn’s shoulder. Finn was smiling at him._

_“You’re gonna be late for school, kiddo. Wake up.”_

_Finn’s voice seemed slightly changed, but still familiar. “What’re you—” Poe began, but Finn turned his head to the left. Toward the door to Poe’s room. Poe saw the knob turning as if in slow-motion._

_“I wanted to meet your dad, but not like_ this _,” Finn said, laughing. Poe, meanwhile, was scrambling to get out of bed, but couldn’t seem to get any traction to sit up. The doorknob was still turning in slo-mo and Finn was still laughing when Poe heaved himself so hard to the left, that he fell out of bed with a loud yelp._

“Poe? Are you okay?” came from behind the door, which was just starting to open. For a moment, Poe lay there, winded from his fall. Then he was jumping up to stare down at his messy (empty?!!) bed. Behind him, his bedroom door creaked open and Poe whirled around just as his dad poked his head in tentatively. “Poe?”

 

“Dad!” Poe looked down at himself, expecting to find himself naked. But he was still wearing his boxers, though nothing else. And those boxers were _soaked_. Poe could only hope his father didn’t notice. “Uh—I’m up—I mean _awake_! I’m awake, now! Yes!”

 

“Well, good,” Kes Dameron said, giving Poe a mildly concerned look before ducking out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Breakfast is waiting in the microwave.”

 

“Gotcha! Thanks, Dad.”

 

When the door shut, Poe immediately turned to his bed. It was still empty.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Poe groaned.

 

 _I’ve got it bad_ , he thought, remembering the dream as if it’d really happened. Usually his wet dreams were amorphous, generic. This one had been solid and specific. _Too_ real. Too _good_. Better than any wet dream he’d ever had—and better, even, than the handful of times he’d had sex in real life—and one he’d remember till his dying day, probably.

 

Finn was definitely getting under his skin. And _fast_. Which should’ve been scary, but was, instead . . . _exhilarating_.

 

For a few moments, Poe had to wonder . . . was it _all_ a dream? Yesterday afternoon, until now?

 

Poe sat on the edge of his bed, in his sodden boxers, and grabbed his phone off the charger. He and Finn had exchanged numbers before parting ways the night before. If any of this was real, then that number would still be in his phone. . . .

 

When Poe unlocked his phone, he saw even better proof. A text from Finn.

 

**Good morning :-***

**Want a ride to school?**

 

Grinning, Poe typed out his reply:

 

_Is water wet? Hells, YES!_

**Can’t wait to see you :-)**

_Give me about fifteen, twenty minutes to shower and get ready, and I’m all yours._

Finn’s reply was almost instantaneous:

 

**Thanks for the awesome visual. I needed to be hard at the kitchen table :-0**

 

Laughing, Poe, put his phone back on the charger and went to take his shower.

 

#

 

Dressed in his plain blue t-shirt, hoodie, and black jeans—backpack slung on his back—Poe hurried down to the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table, reading the paper and sipping coffee.

 

“Hey, Dad,” Poe said, hanging his backpack on the back of his usual chair and heading for the microwave. He opened it to see what was for breakfast—it was a frozen breakfast burrito, again—then set the microwave for two minutes and thirty-five seconds with a sigh.

 

“Good morning,” Kes said, folding his newspaper and looking up at Poe, who was leaning against the kitchen counter. “Got home late last night.”

 

Poe shrugged and didn’t meet his father’s eyes. “Got home before eleven.” Not that he had a curfew.

 

“And what kept you out so late, in the first place?” Kes asked mildly, as if asking the time. “Usually you’re home before five.”

 

Shrugging again, Poe glanced over his shoulder. The burrito still had a minute plus to go. _Damn. Finn’s gonna be here any minute, if he’s not already here._ But Poe glanced out the windows and didn’t see a white Jeep. Yet.

 

“Yeah, I lost track of time, then went to a friend’s house for dinner.”

 

“Hmm.” Kes opened his paper again. “Next time you’re going to be late, Poe, call me and let me know.”

 

“Roger, that.” Poe rolled his eyes and glanced out the window, just in time to see the familiar white Jeep pull up across the street from the house. “There’s my ride!”

 

He stopped the microwave and snatched out the molten burrito, grabbed his backpack. “I’ll see you later, Dad.”

 

“Have a good day, Poe.”

 

Rolling his eyes again, Poe hurried down the hall, to the front door.

 

#

 

“How’s my amazing sweetheart doin’?”

 

Finn laughed as Poe hopped into the Jeep, stowing his backpack on the floor and his half-nuked burrito on the dash. Then he was leaning over to meet the kiss Finn had waiting for him.

 

“If you mean _me_ , I’m doing great, now that you’re here,” Finn murmured on Poe’s lips. Then they were making out as if they had all the time in the world. At least until a car drove by, the driver honking its horn. Then they separated with laughs and suddenly shy smiles, neither moving far from the other. Finn reached up and combed Poe’s wet curls back from his face and sighed. “You are _ridiculously_ handsome, you know?”

 

“You must be looking in a mirror, babe, because that honor goes to you.” Finn was dressed in cargo pants, a Pink Floyd t-shirt, and Poe’s jacket. Just seeing him in that jacket made Poe’s heart leap in his chest. He leaned in to nuzzle Finn’s cheek, down to his ear and neck. “God, you smell so good.”

 

“Are you sure that’s me and not that breakfast burrito?”

 

Poe laughed. “Pretty sure.” He sat up and kissed Finn’s lips lightly, then buckled his seatbelt. “I don’t wanna go to school. Unless we can make out under the bleachers all day.”

 

“Hmm,” Finn murmured, rebuckling his seatbelt and—after checking both ways like a good driver, pulled into traffic, such as it was. “You know, I don’t think our teachers would let us.”

 

“You’re right. They’d be too jealous,” Poe sighed, opening his breakfast burrito. He paused. “Wait—is it okay if I eat this in your car?”

 

Finn laughed. “Of course, it’s okay. I’m not that prissy about my Jeep. Ben, however, is about his stupid Prius. You can’t even _think_ the word _food_ in that thing without him having a heart attack.”

 

Poe snorted, taking a bite that scalded his poor tongue. “He seems like the type.”

 

“You have no idea.” Finn paused at a stop sign and took a right turn. “Anyway, I was thinking . . . if you’re not doing anything this afternoon—”

 

“Yes.”

 

Finn glanced at Poe, a small smile hovering about his lips. “You don’t even know what I was gonna ask, Poe!”

 

“Nope, but the answer is still _yes_.” Poe grinned around his mouthful of nuclear burrito and Finn’s hand settled on his leg for a few moments, reminding Poe of last night. And this morning. He groaned, placing his hand over Finn’s. “You don’t even wanna _know_ about the dream I had of you, Finn.”

 

Finn’s eyebrows shot up and he swallowed reflexively, casting a hot-eyed glance at Poe. “I could say the same.”

 

They drove on in a shy, but excited silence until Finn needed his hand back to switch gears. Poe blushed and took another bite of his burrito. “So . . . what did I say yes to?”

 

Finn’s sudden smile was in his voice. “Well, I was thinking maybe you might want to come hang out with me at this great coffeehouse in town. We could do our homework together and eat the best scones in the county.” Laughing, Finn corrected himself. “Maybe in the whole _world_.”

 

Poe put _his_ hand on Finn’s leg, this time. “Okay, that sounds like fun. Even the homework part. Who’d say no to spending the afternoon with you and super-delicious scones?”

 

Finn laughed a bit ruefully. “Oh, I’ve had a few rejections in my time.”

 

“Impossible,” Poe declared. “Were these people blind and/or deaf? Had they not met you before?”

 

“Ha! No, they were just—acquaintances. Not really friends, not really strangers. And I’m pants at asking people out.” Sighing Finn pulled into the student parking lot behind the school. “I’m so bad at asking people out, if you hadn’t made the first move yesterday, I’d probably still be sitting under there, kicking myself for not being proactive. I’m not at all confident when it comes to that sort of thing.”

 

Poe ran his hand soothingly up and down Finn’s thigh. “For once, my boldness saved the day.”

 

Parking the Jeep in one of a few free spots left, Finn unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at Poe, smiling wryly. “You _are_ pretty bold. I dunno how you do it.”

 

Shrugging, Poe unbuckled his seatbelt, too, and placed what was left of his burrito on the dash. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out since I was sixteen. I’ve been a total chickenshit when it comes to that for over three years. The way I finally saw it was, I had nothing left to lose. Well, maybe some teeth if the Finalizers got involved. But the timing just seemed right—at last—and I wanted you too bad to let myself be a chickenshit, anymore. Faint heart never won fair Finn.”

 

Finn looked away, smiling and blushing. “You’re making me blush.”

 

“I know. And I’m gonna do it every chance I get. It’s cute on you.”

 

Finn rolled his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“And sexy as hell.”

 

“That, too.”

 

Grinning, Poe leaned over to kiss Finn, who met him halfway. “Wait a minute,” Poe breathed just before their lips touched. “Question: Are we, um, _out_? At school and in general? I mean, I already _am_ , but I can understand if you’re in because you’ve got the football-thing and a rep to maintain. Me? I’m just a nobody, so no one’s cared whether I’m out or in. But if you’re in, then I can be in, too, for as long as you want—” he went on, realizing he was starting to babble and unable to stop himself. At least until Finn kissed him, softly and sweetly, effectively shutting him down and shutting him up.

 

“The people who matter already know I’m gay. My friends and family. No one else’s opinion matters to me.” Finn reached up to brush his fingers down Poe’s stubbly cheek. “So feel free to kiss me, hug me, or hold hands with me in the halls.”

 

Poe grinned again. “We’re gonna shock some people,” he said, both dismayed and eager at the thought.

 

“Not as many as you might think,” Finn replied, stealing another kiss before opening his door.

 

#

 

As it turned out, they didn’t have classes together all morning—no shared period until lunch.

 

By that time, Poe was anxious and bored and couldn’t wait to see Finn. Wanted nothing more than to sit with him in some out of the way corner of the cafeteria and maybe steal a few kisses.

 

And that was exactly what he meant to do, once he’d gotten his lunch tray filled with bland carbs and iffy protein.

 

He stood near the cash register and scanned the caf for his boyfriend, not spotting him anywhere. Then a raucous burst of laughter drew his attention to the exact center of the room.

 

Where all the jocks sat.

 

Where _Finn_ was sitting.

 

And just as Poe caught sight of Finn, Finn caught sight of him and waved him over excitedly.

 

Poe glanced around the cafeteria, to the sparsely populated corners, in which he usually sat. For a moment he felt a pang for his lost solitude . . . then he was smiling as he looked back at Finn’s smiling, anticipatory face.

 

He made his way to the center of the cafeteria, feeling odd and awkward, but pretending he did this all the time. When he got to the jock-tables, he nodded at the people he passed, ignoring the curious looks he got, until he was standing near Finn and Slip White. Finn stood up, still looking insanely gorgeous in Poe’s jacket, his face lit up in a breath-taking smile.

 

“Hey, Poe!” Finn exclaimed, taking Poe’s tray and placing it on the table next to his own. Then he pulled Poe into a hug that lasted for just long enough that Poe relaxed—Finn was truly serious about being out at school—then tensed up again for a whole different reason.

 

Namely public displays of affection in front of, oh, everyone. But especially the jocks, who Poe could feel staring at them.

 

“Heyya, sweetheart,” Poe said quietly, squeezing Finn back. “How was your morning?”

 

“Ugh, boring, slow.” Finn laughed and let go of Poe, rolling his eyes. “How was yours?”

 

“Pretty much the same.” Poe blushed when Finn leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I missed you.”

 

“And I missed you.” Finn’s bright smile widened and he took Poe’s hand. Then he looked down at a wide-eyed Slip White. “Move over, Slip!”

 

Grumbling, the running-back did as he was asked, taking his tray with him and casting a narrow-eyed, annoyed look at Poe, who smiled and shrugged. Then he nodded at the other Finalizers who were staring at him—including Tom Giacchino and Trey Orr. The former looked confused and the latter looked . . . displeased, to say the least.

 

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, the one I told you about, Poe Dameron. Poe, these are my fellow Finalizers,” Finn said as they sat down. He was still smiling—proudly, it seemed—and he hadn’t let go of Poe’s hand.

 

“So . . . you weren’t kidding about dating a guy?” Tom asked, still seeming confused. Trey snorted, running a hand back over his blond crewcut-mullet. His gaze darted from Finn’s smiling face, to Poe’s patented Face of Unreadability.

 

“Of course he wasn’t kidding, Tommy. He already came out two years ago.” Trey hardly sounded approving.

 

“Yeah, but I thought he was . . . you know, joking or something.”

 

Finn rolled his eyes. “Who would joke about something like that, Tom?”

 

“I dunno! I just thought it was a joke!” Tom shrugged, and picked up his slice of pizza. “Seriously, who ever heard of a gay kicker?”

 

“ _You_ have, now.” Finn said through gritted teeth. His smile was now starting to look a tad strained. Poe squeezed Finn’s hand in support, and got a grateful look in return.

 

“So, Dameron,” Trey said, stabbing at a French fry on his plate with a spork. “Wait . . . _Poe_ _Dameron_ —you’re on the soccer team, right?”

 

Poe nodded placidly. “I was, in freshman year. Then I quit.”

 

Trey’s look turned somewhat disdainful. “Why’d you quit? Soccer’s no football, but it’s a decent game, nonetheless.”

 

“Let’s just say I didn’t have team-spirit.” Poe shrugged.

 

“Well, I guess being part of a team isn’t for everyone. It takes a special kind of person to be a part of something like that.” Trey said loftily. Poe’s right eyebrow quirked up.

 

“Yeah, I guess. That, and I found a much more fun use for balls than kicking them,” Poe said lazily, and both Finn and Slip choked on whatever they were chewing. Tom just looked confused again, and Trey frowned down at his cheeseburger so hard, Poe expected it to burst into flames.

 

For a few moments, a silence fell over the jocks’ tables. Then it was broken by Tom, who’d started laughing.

 

“I get it!” he said, snorting and guffawing over his alphabet soup. Poe and Finn glanced at each other. Poe rolled his eyes and Finn leaned against him, chuckling.

 

Then everyone was talking again, except for a deeply flushed and unhappy-looking Trey. And when, halfway through lunch, Finn leaned even closer to Poe and Poe kissed him on the lips, briefly, but definitely _not_ platonically, no one said a thing, or even seemed to notice.

 

#

 

The rest of the day went by quickly, mostly because Poe and Finn had three classes together.

 

English and History weren’t Poe’s shining subjects—those being math and science—but he did alright in them. Not necessarily on _that_ day, since he found himself distracted by Finn, who simply by sitting next to Poe, had rendered Poe’s attention span—for anything that was _not_ Finn—nil.

 

Occasionally Finn caught Poe staring—not that Poe was trying to hide it—and mouthed: _What_? Poe would smile and give Finn a thorough once-over, then mouth back: _You’re beautiful_. Or something of that nature. Finn would blush and smile, then try to school his face into something studious and nod at the front of the classroom. _Pay attention!_ he’d mouth, his lips trembling like he wanted to laugh. And Poe would snort, but turn his eyes dutifully toward the board and the teacher.

 

That lasted for all of two minutes.

 

Finally, the last period of the day rolled around: Study Hall. Poe and Finn sat together near the window, surrounded by the other three Finalizers they shared the period with. It was weird for Poe to actually _study_ for his French mid-term—at Finn’s insistence and with Finn’s help—surrounded by jocks, no less, like some kind of honor guard.

 

The big surprise of the day was hearing Finn whisper something in French in his ear.

 

“Holy shit, you speak French?” Poe asked slightly louder than he meant to, then covered his mouth, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had except Trey, who frowned at Poe and rolled his eyes.

 

Finn chuckled quietly. “ _Je fais . . . couramment_.”

 

Poe blushed. “Baby, just watching your lips shape those vowels is giving me wood.”

 

“Oh, my God, you’re incorrigible,” Finn muttered, blushing, too. But he leaned closer to Poe. “But yes, I speak French fluently.”

 

“How? Did you do Rosetta Stone, or something?” Poe asked, still staring at Finn’s lips. Finn laughed again, quietly.

 

“My parents were Nigerian which meant they had to speak at least our native dialect, English, and French. They made sure I knew all three as best they could.” Finn shrugged and smiled down at his history textbook, which was still unopened. “I kept up with the languages—the latter two, anyway—as much as I could after they died. My mom that you met, Leia, speaks French really well. Sometimes, she and I have these long talks entirely _en Francais_. It reminds me of my talking with my birth mom. . . .”

 

Finn’s smile turned a bit melancholy. Poe reached over and covered Finn’s hand with his own. When Finn looked up, Poe leaned over and kissed him tenderly. “You’re amazing . . . you know that?”

 

“Because _je parle Francais_?” Finn asked wryly, his lips moving temptingly against Poe’s.

 

“Because of that and a whole bunch of other reasons, sweetheart,” Poe said, claiming Finn’s lips in another kiss that lasted until Slip, who was sitting next to Poe on his other side, elbowed Poe.

 

“I’m getting real sick of watching you two make goo-goo eyes at each other and make out. Jeez,” Slip grumbled. Poe glanced over at the exasperated Finalizer, grinning.

 

“Well, no one’s forcing you to watch us at all, little buddy.” Then Poe was turning back to Finn. “Now, where were we? French kissing?”

 

“Actually, we were at French greetings,” Finn said, clearing his throat and attempting to look studious. His right eyebrow quirked up. “ _Ca va,_ Poe?”

 

“Uh . . . _oui_?” Poe guessed, cranking up his charming smile five notches. Finn rolled his eyes.

 

So, maybe Study Hall didn’t go as quickly as _all that_.

 

#

 

“Ah, home, away from home,” Finn said as he and Poe stepped into _The Cantina_.

 

Poe was agog. The place was an awesome cross between a coffee shop and a lounge. It even boasted a decent-sized stage for performances. The décor was wood and glass, all shining and bright—and no wonder, for the way one of the baristas was wiping down the spotless counter.

 

The place looked like new, but according to Finn, it’d been a part of the town’s music scene for years.

 

“Where do you wanna sit?” Finn asked, and Poe followed his boyfriend’s gaze to a corner near the counter, with a good view of the pastries kept behind glass. Poe grinned. He already knew Finn had a T-Rex-sized sweet tooth.

 

“How about over there? Near the counter?” Poe said casually.

 

“You read my mind,” Finn replied, grinning, taking Poe’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

 

Once they were seated and had their homework out, the young woman who’d been wiping the counter down came over to them with a pad and pencil ready.

 

“Hey, Finn! Long time, no see,” she said tartly, with an English accent. Her smile was big and bright, and Finn served a similar smile right back to her.

 

“Hey, Rey! How’s it going?”

 

“Eh, it goes. How’re you?”

 

“Same ol’ same ol’. Practice, practice, practice.”

 

“I figured you were neck deep in practice. I remember from my days at West Coruscant, Coach Phasma was known to be a ball-buster.” The young woman—Rey—shook her head. “I dunno how you put up with her.”

 

Then Rey was turning her keen, but friendly brown eyes to Poe, giving him a once-over that seemed to miss nothing. “And who are _you_?” she asked. Finn grinned and blushed.

               

“This is my boyfriend, Poe. Poe, this is Rey.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Poe,” Rey said, holding out her hand. Poe took it, noticing that her grip was firm and cool.

 

“Likewise, Rey.”

 

Rey tilted her head a little, obviously taking Poe’s measure. Poe sat up a little straighter. Finally, Rey nodded. “You’re cute,” she said. “And not overly aware of that fact. More importantly, you have got it _bad_ for my friend, here.”

 

Rey put a hand on Finn’s shoulder and Poe’s face turned red.

 

“Well, _yeah_ , I have it bad. I mean, have you _met_ him?” Poe asked, snorting. Finn smiled and squeezed Poe’s hand.

 

Rey laughed, shaking her head. “ _So_ adorable. It’s like if a puppy decided to date a kitten.”

 

Finn snickered. “Which one of us is the puppy?”

 

“Me, obviously,” Poe said and Finn raised an eyebrow.

 

“Actually, I think it’s me.”

 

“Are you kidding? You’re _such_ a kitten.”

 

“Nope, you’re the kitten.”

 

“You’re the one who speaks French!”

 

“And that automatically makes me a kitten?!”

 

“Well. . . .”

 

“Boys, boys.” Rey held out her hands, laughing. “Argue later, order now. What can I get for you to nibble on?”

 

Poe smiled lazily at Finn. “After you, kitten.”

 

“Pearls before swine,” Finn said primly, then couldn’t hold the face for longer than a few more seconds. Laughing, he gave Rey his order—a cinnamon chip scone and a large lavender-mint iced tea.

 

Poe then placed his order—a chocolate chip scone and a mocha latte—and Rey hustled off with a wink.

 

“She’s really cool,” Poe said, watching her get to work on their order behind the shining counter.

 

“She really is,” Finn agreed.

 

“So . . . how’d you find out about this place?” Poe asked. Finn sighed, looking around like he really had found his home away from home.

 

“One of Dad’s interns, Jess, told me about this place a year ago,” Finn said, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “And this place is great, don’t get me wrong, but I think Jess comes here mostly because of Rey.”

 

“Because of Rey? Why because of Rey?”

 

Finn made a face and waggled his eyebrows in a fairly comical way. “Jess is a puppy and Rey is a kitten. That’s why.”

 

“Ohhh.” Poe blinked and glanced at the young woman behind the bar, making his mocha. She was dressed in functional clothing: khakis, a blue _The Cantina_ t-shirt, and sneakers. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her features were fine and wholesome, sprayed here and there with freckles.

 

She was pretty in a way that even Poe could appreciate.

 

Puppies and kittens, indeed.

 

#

 

“Wow, that was. . . .” Finn chuckled pressing himself even closer to Poe.

 

“I know,” Poe murmured into Finn’s hair, kissing it. In the deepening dusk, he could barely see anything in the Jeep, and that included his boyfriend. But it didn’t matter. As long as Poe could _feel_ Finn on him, everything was right with the world. “I love touching you . . . feeling you come.”

 

“Ditto,” Finn sighed, cuddling up to Poe in the limited space they had. It should’ve felt cramped but it didn’t. It felt . . . cozy.

 

“Hey, did I ever tell you about that dream I had last night?” Poe asked. Finn laughed breathlessly.

 

“Nooo . . . but I’ll bet it bore a lot of similarity to _my_ dream, last night,” Finn said coyly, his warm breath puffing against Poe’s neck. “Lots of platonic arm-wrestling and Bible-study.”

 

Poe burst out laughing. “Exactly. Clearly we’re dream-sharing. It’s just like _Inception_!”

 

Finn chuckled again. “Clearly.” He sat up, flicking on the Jeep’s overhead light, and looked Poe in the eyes. His own were sated and happy. He made Poe feel like the King of Handjobs.

 

He squeezed Finn’s ass possessively and leaned in for a kiss the other boy happily provided. This lasted for quite some time before Finn broke the kiss, looking dazed, yet alarmed. “What time is it?”

 

“Probably close to seven.”

 

“Shit! I gotta get home before Mom has a cow!” Finn struggled out of his straddling of Poe’s legs, back into the driver’s seat. Poe shivered, instantly missing Finn’s warmth and weight on him.

 

“Or . . . you could just call her and let her know you’ll be an hour or two late. . . .” Poe finagled. The initial reply he received was a snort.

 

“Please, that’d be like letting her know I was gonna stay out for the express purpose of having sex!”

 

“Or for what’s called ‘a date,’” Poe suggested. Finn sighed, running his hands over his face.

 

“I just—shudder to think how Ben would announce me if I came home two or three hours later than usual.” Finn groaned. “ _Finn and his deflowering boyfriend are here! I repeat: Finn and his deflowering boyfriend are here!_ ”

 

Poe laughed. “Yikes, that’d be . . . horrible.”

 

“Tell me about it! And I wouldn’t put it past Ben to actually do that, either.”

 

Glumly, Poe sighed. “So . . . does this mean we’re never gonna go on a date and stay out late?”

 

Finn smiled and put his hand on Poe’s. “Not never, it’s just—this is so new and we’re all trying to get used to this. I wanna give my parents a chance to process this before I start staying out late and theoretically having sex with my hot, badass boyfriend.”

 

“You’re so transparent, you know?” Poe pulled Finn’s hand up to his lips to kiss it. “Okay, no date tonight, but definitely on Saturday if, you know, you didn’t have plans already. . . .”

 

“I was actually thinking tomorrow night—if you’re free—we could go to _The Cantina_ for band-night. And Saturday, you could maybe come to my house again and . . . chill out for the day.” Finn smiled hopefully. “If, you know, you’re free.”

 

“Of _course_ , I’m free! _Always_ free for _you_!”

 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Finn murmured, leaning in for a lazy kiss that Poe ended before his body was doing more than _rallying_ to get hard again.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, sweetheart?”

 

“Affirmative, babe.” Finn smiled a big, besotted smile. “Same bat-time, same bat-channel.”

 

“Good.” Poe unlocked his door and, after staring at Finn for a minute as if he’d never see him again, opened his door and slid out. When he turned to grab his backpack from the passenger side floor, he winked at a suddenly bereft looking Finn. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I wish . . . I wish we could spend the night together. . . .” he said softly. “I miss you already.”

 

Poe sighed again, one hand going to his chest, where his heart seemed to beat out a sadder rhythm than usual. “I miss you, too, Kitten.”

 

Finn rolled his eyes. “You’re the kitten, Kitten.”

 

“I’m really not. I’ve got ‘puppy’ written all over me. I’ll even hump your leg, if you let me.” Poe grinned and leered, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Oh, God,” Finn started laughing, his cheeks red under their dark complexion. “Good night, Poe. I’ll be here to pick you up at seven-thirty.”

 

Laughing, Poe blew Finn an exaggerated kiss and shut the passenger door. Then he was backing to his front door, waving. Finn waved back, till Poe got to the door, then had to turn around to use his key. When he let himself in, he stood on the threshold for one last wave, which Finn returned. Then the overhead light went out and Finn started up the Jeep.

 

Poe stood there until well after Finn had driven off into the evening, just breathing and feeling the sweet sorrow of a fond good-bye.

 

He couldn’t wait until Saturday and spending the entire day with Finn. Hell, he couldn’t wait till Friday morning, just to _see_ Finn again.

 

 _I’ve got it_ bad, he mused. _And I’m totally alright with that_.

 

TBC

 

 


End file.
